


Smiles Over Sin

by smileslikesunset



Series: the butterfly effect [1]
Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 02:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10777740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smileslikesunset/pseuds/smileslikesunset
Summary: Marcel asks Kol to escort Davina to the Music Festival where Kol has the pleasure of meeting Tim, the prat of a violinist. But Original Vampires don't do jealousy. Not even if it involves some sniveling teenager stealing the smile of a certain New Orleans witch.





	Smiles Over Sin

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This fic. is part of a new series I'm starting. All of the stories will take place in an AU of season one where Kol meets Davina before the rest of his family comes to NOLA. Each part will be posted out of order as they will be written whenever muse strikes. This one is based on the episode "Girl in New Orleans."
> 
> Enjoy!

Kol Mikaelson was beginning to enjoy New Orleans again. It was certainly better than the hellhole more favorably known as Mystic Falls. At least in New Orleans there was always someone down for a drink or, in his case, someone down to be drank (at least after some prolonged eye contact and instructive words). There was always a new pretty tourist to capture with his smile and charms. It was such a shame his family had to come to town and damper his little paradise.

Ah, his family. Surely his time alone in New Orleans had to be too good to be true. Marcel warned him they were after Davina, something that bothered Kol more than it should. He chalked it up to the fact that any victory his family had, and procuring the New Orleans witch would certainly be that, was a loss for him. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that he cared for the girl. He might admit to thinking of her as a friend if prodded, but Kol Mikaelson did not invest emotions in people, certainly not sixteen-year-old witches.

He sat in the living room of his old home, a humble mansion on the outskirts of the quarter—Kol always lived in style—with a pretty blonde’s wrist lifted willingly to his mouth. The girl stared at him blank faced as he fed. B positive. What a nice little treat. It was a shame a courteous knock on the door and an uncourteous barging in forced him to put his lunch on hold.

Marel Gerard entered the room, looking like a man on a mission as he gave a rather forced smile to the youngest original brother.

“Kol Mikaelson, just the psychotic manic I was looking for,” said Marcel.

Kol didn’t react to the New Orlean vampire’s dramatics. He pushed the blonde’s wrist from his mouth.

“Go to my room and wait for me on the bed,” Kol instructed. He shot her a smirk, mainly to annoy Marcel. “Removing some of these layers while you wait is highly encouraged.”

The girl left, and Kol kicked his feet up on the coffee table, his arms lounging on the edge of the couch.

“And what do I owe your rather rude intrusion on my domain?” Kol asked. “I do believe I am in the middle of one favor you’ve already asked from me, please don’t think you will be lucky enough to convince me to complete another.”

Marcel walked around the room, feigning to look at the décor with interest.

“Actually, this favor piggybacks on my first one,” Marcel said. He pointed at a rather elegant painting of a naked woman. “Someone you knew?”

“Someone I _ate_ ,” Kol clarified. His eyebrows scrunched together and he leaned forward. “I agreed to help your witch with magic as payment for allowing me to live in the quarter without your army of vampires annoying me, nothing else. Seeing as I have kept my end of the deal and proceeded to not run back into the arms of my dear brother with Davina on my shoulder, I think it is you who owes me.”

“Ah, but your brother is the problem,” said Marcel. “Well, him and the witches. Davina wants to go out tonight, some music festival. I told her she could go. I was planning for Cami to look after her, but she can’t make it. That leaves you.”

Kol let the words process for a moment before answering. A music festival? He knew Davina was interested in music, she had spoken to him about it at great length during their lessons. If she was bold enough to ask her warden to let her out for the night to go to it, then it was probably important to her. Kol put on a face of nonchalance, having already made his decision.

“Well, fortunately for Davina I had no plans tonight and an inkling to listen to some New Orleans jazz. I suppose I can accompany her to help keep away my big bad brother and the psycho witches.”

Marcel looked surprised, stopping his roaming around the room to look at Kol.

“That’s it?” he asked. “No stipulations? No ulterior motives?”

Kol kept his uncaring façade, raising his hands as a sign of defense.

“What can I say, Marcel. Letting the princess leave her tower for the night sounds like a reasonable request, I’m a do-gooder by nature,” Kol smirked, getting up. “Speaking of which, I have a nice young woman waiting for me upstairs I would like to do some good too. If you will excuse me, I’m sure you can see yourself out.”

Kol walked out of the room. He could hear Marcel whoosh away behind him, and as he climbed the stairs he couldn’t help but feel a little excited about his new evening plans.

* * *

 

Kol arrived at the church attic fifteen minutes before the event. After their conversation, Marcel had texted him the time and place of the Dauphine Street Music Festival. The even sounded quite boring, a bunch of amateur musicians playing their souls at a bar. He didn’t know why Davina would risk being sighted for something so trivial, but he decided not to question it. He had found himself looking forward to seeing her smile as she took her first steps out of the attic, and he wasn’t disappointed.

Davina practically tackled him as she hugged him at the door.

“Kol!” she exclaimed. He returned the hug, a little taken aback but not upset. She was so short she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach him. It was, frankly, adorable.

 They parted, and Kol noticed Davina had put some extra thought in her appearance. She wore a little white dress, no doubt one of Marcel’s choices, and had arranged her hair prettily around her face. Kol always thought she looked beautiful, only a blind man would admit otherwise, but his pride couldn’t help but hope that the careful care in which she presented herself was for him.

“Thank you so much,” Davina said. “You have no idea what this means to me.”

Kol smiled at her, a habit that had become more common as of late.

“Of course, darling. I couldn’t leave a pretty girl hanging. When Marcel told me that you were left unescorted, I was more than happy to come to your rescue.” He held out his arm for her, letting her smile infect him with a rare giddiness. “Now shall we head out or do you need a moment to part with your beloved attic.”

Davina let out a laugh and took his arm, shaking her head.

“I would be happy if I never had to see this place again,” Davina said as they started walking down the stairs. “But I’ll settle for a few hours.”

 Kol fought back a small frown and mentally made a note to ask Marcel about moving Davina to his quarters. Surely the most powerful witch in New Orleans deserved better than a spooky lair of dust and cobwebs.

“Your wish is my command,” Kol said, and they headed out.

* * *

 

The streets were packed with locals and tourists alike, music blaring from every little bar and nick-knack shop they passed. Tents with art and food were spread across the streets. Davina eagerly looked at all of them, taking in the sights like a child waking up to Christmas morning. It was hard to contain his smile as he watched Davina weave through the streets and stop to inspect the mediocre oil paintings and try samples of gumbo. Kol spotted a few of Marcel’s worker-vamps watching them. He made eye contact with them, daring them to interrupt their evening and cross him.

“You have some gumbo on your lip,” he laughed as Davina came back to him with another free sample in hand. The girl quickly wiped her mouth and handed him the sample. Kol tried to give it back.

 “No thanks darling, you know I prefer my meals to come with a pulse,” he told her. Davina didn’t even flinch.

“Dumaine’s makes the best gumbo,” she insisted. “You have to at least try it.”

Kol rolled his eyes for show but took the sample from the girl. He took a sip and was surprised to find that Davina was correct.

“Delicious,” he consented, making Davina’s smile grow. "Almost enough to make me swear off blood forever in exchange. Almost."

Davina laughed again, and Kol decided that he didn’t hear enough of her laughter when they were in the attic. While he often managed to arise the occasional giggle and the rare snort—he was still rather proud of that moment—during their lessons, most of their time was spent focusing on control. Control left little room for laughter, particularly when dealing with such strong magic. It made Kol wonder how his interactions with Davina would be like if she were not a Harvest Witch condemned to wait her days out in an attic. They probably would have never crossed paths. Kol was almost grateful for the Harvest in that way, a thought that made him sick the moment it passed through his brain.

Where is the place you wanted to go?” he asked, partly because he felt like he needed to distract him and partly because he knew they should probably get off the streets where Davina would be most visible.

“My friend is performing in a bar called Rousseau’s,” Davina said. She grabbed his hand and started leading them through the streets. Kol nodded until something hit him.

“Friend?” he asked. “Is she a musician?”

“ _He_ plays the violin,” she said, weaving through the crowd with impressive skill. Kol couldn’t help but noticed the bashfulness in her voice, and the way her pulse seemed to speed up. He frowned.

 _He_?

* * *

 

The bar was cramped. A group of trombone players played at a small, make-shit stage. Davina’s grin was intoxicating as she looked around, and it made Kol forget about the mention of her friend.

“Everything you imagined, darling?” he asked her, watching with amusement as she stared around the dank little bar with wonder.

“Yes,” she said, nodding her head. She stopped dead and Kol followed her eyes. She was staring at a teenage boy who he supposed some might call attractive. Kol thought he looked like a prat. He stepped in front of Davina.

 “I believe you owe me for this little excursion,” Kol said, his eyes twinkling mischief as he held out a hand to Davina. “Will you dance with me, darling?”

Davina blinked as if released from a spell. She looked a little conflicted, if only for a second before her smile returned and she accepted his outstretched hand.

Kol was pleased to show off his centuries worth of acquired dance skill as he twirled Davina around. She had alright rhythm, but he could tell she did not have much dance experience, so after the second song he lifted her up—an amused smirk dancing across his lips at her startled gasp—and placed her on his feet. Even with the little boost she was still far shorter than him, and it amused him to no end.

Kol was actually surprised by how much fun he was having. That seemed to be the general effect with Davina. When Marcel first told him about the girl, he thought teaching her was going to be an unbearable chore that he would have to wiggle his way out of. Instead, it became the highlight of his day. Davina, though young, had an old soul. She was wise beyond her years and had the uncanny habit of throwing back his wit without so much as a blink. He might dare say she was different than other girls, but that made him sound as sappy and stupid as the Salvatore brothers—two men he did not want to be compared to.

All was going great until the bands changed and Davina’s friend took the stage. Davina’s eyes began to follow the boy like a sniper eyeing their target, and she pulled away from Kol to stare at the boy from beside the bar. Kol scowled. He told himself his annoyance was that he thought the boy was a prat. Truth was, he didn’t like being ignored in favor of a sixteen-year-old boy Davina suddenly had heart eyes for.

The band and the stupid prat began to play. Kol leaned against the bar next to Davina, sending daggers at her friend.

“The violinist is terrible,” he said bluntly. It was a lie. The boy did have some skills, a fact that only made Kol dislike the boy more. His words seemed to break Davina from her enchantment, and she turned to look at him with a glare.

“The violinist is my friend,” she said, defensively, before turning away from him again. Kol’s scowl deepened.

“Yes, right, your _friend,_ ” he said, the word sounding like an insult on his tongue. “How long have you known this friend?”

“His name is Tim. I’ve known him since I was ten,” Davina said, not turning her gaze from the violinist. The boy let out a yell of excitement as the song picked up, and Davina smiled. Kol didn’t like that smile. He missed the smile that had been for him just moments before. That was a much better smile.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to him, before everything that happened,” Davina continued. “I was hoping to get to say goodbye to him tonight.”

Davina looking at the boy was one thing, but her talking to him—with that lovesick voice and that smile that wasn’t for Kol—was another. Kol snorted, emotions he didn’t quite understand, taking control of his better judgment.

“Well, you can’t,” Kol said, coldly. “We didn’t come here for meet and greets. You’re supposed to be laying low.”

Davina turned to look at him, finally. She wore an expression of confusion, not understanding his sudden change in tone.

“What?”

 “I mean,” Kol continued, unable to help himself. “If ten years of friendship isn’t enough to make him come looking for you, then he obviously doesn’t care that much.”

Davina looked at him as though he had slapped her. A part of Kol, the part that admitted to being the girl’s friend and excited to spend time with her, regretted his words, but the other, more stubborn, part of him refused to take them back.

The hurt on Davina’s face quickly transformed into anger. She glared at him.

“You know nothing about friends,” she spat, before storming off into the crowd. Kol could have grabbed her wrist and forced her to stay, but he was in too foul of a mood to do anything but glare after her as she made her way to the front of the crowd. Unable to shake the mixture of guilt and anger building inside of him.

“Oh waiter,” he said, turning around to face the bar. He smirked as he made eye contact with a cute redhead behind the counter. “How about a drink?”

* * *

 

After a quick excursion to a dark corner and a few pints of blood later, Kol looked back at the now quiet stage to see Davina speaking to Tim. He pushed the waitress off him, compelled her to freshen up in the bathroom, before walking towards them. Davina frowned when she saw him approach, but he ignored her and gave a smug smirk.

“Ah, you must be Tim,” he said, putting an arm around Davina’s shoulders. “Davina has never mentioned you before tonight. Interesting music. I wasn’t aware that they had concerts for the tone-deaf in New Orleans.”

Tim looked confused. Davina shoved Kol’s arm off of her. Kol had the distinct feeling that he had suddenly been trapped in a boiler room, no doubt Davina was using the blood boiling technique he had shown her. Good thing Kol liked it hot.

“And you are?” asked Tim. Kol held his hand out.

“Kol, Kol Mikaelson. Davina’s good friend,” Kol said, stressing the last part.

After a hesitant, disbelieving look, Tim accepted Kol’s hand. Kol gripped it hard, causing the boy to let out a gasp of surprise. Kol looked into his eyes.

“You are going to leave here and forget that you saw Davina. You played your shit music and left to go on with your miserable life. That was all,” Kol said, seeing the boy's pupils dilated. Davina let out a noise of protest, but Kol pushed the boy away before she could intervene. “Now leave.”

Tim left, looking akin to a zombie. Davina made to follow him, but Kol grabbed her wrist.

“Let me go,” she hissed. Kol was glad that she was wise enough no to cause a scene with her magic. He knew she could take him out if she wanted to.

“You know I’m right, darling,” he said. “The less people who know about you the better.”

Davina glared. Kol had never seen her look so angry. She pulled her hand away from him.

“Right,” she said, her voice filled with venom. “I’m beginning to wish you were one of them.”

The words shouldn’t have hurt him. He had heard centuries worth of horrid and wretched insults but never had any of them stung like the words Davina just spoke. Kol watched her, unsure what to do as she stormed out of the bar. A few of Marcel’s men followed her, careful to linger a safe distance behind. Only as he watched her retreating form did he realize the consequences of his rashness. All for a petty show of power.

 And for the first time, it wasn’t worth it.

* * *

 

Kol returned to the attic not even an hour later. He had made sure Davina had gotten back safely, watching her storm across the quarter streets from the rooftops. Once she entered the church, he headed back. He had an annoying prat to find.

He knocked on the attic door, unsurprised when it stayed closed. Davina could probably sense him before he even made his way up the stairs. She was ignoring him. He almost wished she would yell at him again.

“Davina,” he called. “Darling, let me speak to you.”

 A few seconds passed, and Kol thought he was going to have to plead further when the door swung open and he was suddenly thrown against the wall. He landed on the floor with a crash, raising his sore neck to look at a positively furious Davina Claire. She controlled her anger well, choosing to look merely smug as she smirked at him, but Kol could see the hurt and fire still in his eyes.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said. She turned away, going towards the canvas. It was turned away from him, so he couldn’t see what she was working on. Judging by the violent way she began to move her charcoal, it was not a picture of sunshine and roses.

“That’s fair,” Kol said, getting up from the ground. “I’ve come to apologize for my actions.”

Davina stopped her drawing. She gave him a disbelieving look.

“You, apologize?” Davina asked, pursing her lip. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“Believe me, darling, I’m not,” Kol said. “But it appears I have ruined your night, which is not what I intended to do when I offered to escort you to the festival. I was wrong.”

“You were jealous,” Davina said, her expression still fixed, but her features were softening, almost as if she was amused. Kol was quick to correct her.

“I don’t get jealous,” Kol said sternly. "Especially of sixteen-year-old prats…I mean musicians.”

Davina raised an eyebrow at him, so Kol continued.

“If you don’t believe me, go downstairs and see for yourself," he said. He held out a hand. Davina hesitated, before walking over to him and taking it. He led her down the stairs, enjoying the warmth of her touch.

Kol wasn’t good at apologies. He could count on a single hand how many time he had apologized in his lifetime, and most of those had been insincere. He broke things. He didn’t fix them. But she made him want to try. Somehow, as he had watched Davina walk away, she had elicited in him enough panic to make him want to do anything to make things right. What he was feeling should worry him, but he refused to focus on them. To think about what all of these new thoughts and emotions meant was dangerous territory, and he was just trying to get through one landmine at a time.

As they arrived at the church worship center, Davina let out a delighted gasp. Tim sat in the front pew, looking at the statue of the Virgin Mary.

“I still think he sucks at music,” Kol said beside her. “But, your friendship is yours, and I should not have taken away your chance to say goodbye. He won’t be able to remember it, I was right when I said we can’t have him knowing about you and accidently letting things slip, but I don’t see too much harm in letting you guys talk for a half hour or so.”

Davina looked at Kol, waiting to see if he would add anything else. When he didn’t, her face broke out into a smile. If Kol had a beating heart, he was sure it would have sped up. That was his smile. It was a dangerous smile, one that he would do nearly anything for if it meant keeping it on Davina’s face. The realization should have terrified him, but all he could do was smile back at her as he nudged his head in the boy’s direction.

“Go,” he said. Davina hurried to meet the boy. Kol stayed on the staircase, making sure no one interrupted the two of them.

Jealous. That was the word Davina had used. Perhaps Kol had been jealous. The Mikaelson’s were prone to all of the deadly sins in their fullest form. But maybe even he could get over his petty emotions if it meant getting to see Davina smile.

Besides, the smile she wore for Tim was fleeting. He intended to make her smile forever.

           

**Author's Note:**

> That's it yall! Sorry if it is absolute crap. I wrote it after staring at my thesis for five hours. All feedback is appreciated. :)


End file.
